


Q is for Quota

by coolbyrne



Series: The Alphabet Series [17]
Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:27:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28491645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolbyrne/pseuds/coolbyrne
Summary: Jack brings something more than coffee to his day, even if Gibbs' isn't quite ready to admit it out loud. pre-Slibbs
Relationships: Jethro Gibbs/Jacqueline "Jack" Sloane
Series: The Alphabet Series [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1909126
Comments: 18
Kudos: 66





	Q is for Quota

**Author's Note:**

> I may re-visit this letter and go in a more metaphorical direction with it, but until then, I give you this. :)

It had been a hell of a week and it was only Wednesday. The case that greeted them on a bright Monday afternoon had leeched all the light from the hours that followed, nothing growing darker than Gibbs' mood. Leads had dried up, emotions were frayed and frustrations ruled the day. Such was the speed in which things had gone downhill that he decided to let the team go home early the night before, after a gentle suggestion by their new psychologist. 

Jack Sloane. A whirlwind who blew into his life 6 months ago and dropped anchor like she belonged there.

He rolled his eyes at the metaphor and he wondered if his brain was trying to tell him he'd built one too many boats in the basement.

His eyes went up to the second floor as he came out of the elevator. In the morning darkness, he didn't expect to see Sloane, though he was surprised to see Bishop boring a steely stare into her computer, as if threatening it with her eyes would force it to spit out whatever it was she was looking for. As he came around the corner, he glanced at his watch.

"Thought I sent you home," he said.

"Waiting for an Australian friend to wake up." The information, especially considering the time difference, didn't lower his eyebrow. "Computer geek," she clarified. "He might know how to get the satellite records we need."

It was enough for him to grunt and drop into his seat. But not before eyeing the coffee cup on his desk. Bishop caught the look.

"I just thought you stayed," she said when she realized he already had a cup in his hand.

"Nope." He didn't add that it didn't make much difference, that he probably would've gotten the same amount of sleep on one of the autopsy tables that he got on his couch. He eyed the coffee again, noting the nondescript disposable cup. His fingertips measured the heat and put it around 15 minutes old. His eyes returned to the second floor, but her door was closed and the darkness that surrounded it was evidence of her absence. 

When he lifted the lid and brought the cup to his nose, Bishop exclaimed, "You're not going to drink that, are you?"

He chuckled at her protective nature. "Ya think someone's tryin' to poison me at 6 in the mornin', Bishop?"

She shrugged away her embarrassment. "When you put it like that, no, I guess not. Still, didn't your mom tell you not to take candy from a stranger?"

"Technically, it's coffee." He drew in the aroma. " _Good_ coffee." It was jet black, and the strength of both the colour and the smell might've fallen lesser men, but it only intrigued him more. Downing his diner coffee, he tossed the empty cup into the trash and took his first sip of the liquid tar. "Damn good coffee," he said, almost to himself. Bishop's laugh brought his attention back to his surroundings. "Your friend up yet?"

His attempt at scolding rolled off her back. "No, but in the meantime, I'm running a background check on the husband's financials, see if anything gives us a lead." Her voice was a summation of how little luck they'd had over the last two days. 

He could only nod at her assessment. Enjoying one more drink of the coffee, he turned on his computer, opened the file and wondered where he'd left his glasses.

…..

As tenuous as it was, they _did_ get a lead from Bishop's friend, and the team had gone out to collect the pieces. Now back at the office, they were about to put things together when Bishop lifted her chin towards Gibbs' desk.

"Your coffee fairy's back." Tim and Nick turned at the comment and she explained, "Someone left a coffee on his desk this morning."

Tim's attention went to Gibbs. "You didn't drink it, did you, Boss?"

"See?" Bishop said, snapping her finger. "Candy from strangers. Just like I said."

Gibbs ignored the question and the 'I told you so' and removed the lid from the cup that bore the same nondescript markings of the morning offering. It was the same blend- strong, dark, and like black gold going down. He pressed his lips together in appreciation, and the team felt the same moment of calm. The case had pushed them all to their limits, and when Gibbs felt the edges of the frustration push between his ribs, the team felt it, too. While he enjoyed the coffee, they enjoyed the welcomed respite it brought, no matter how short. 

He felt them take the opportunity to breathe again, and used the beverage to let it stretch out before he put down the cup and bark, "Whatta we got?"

…..

Though he hadn't seen his coffee fairy, it didn't take an investigative agent to figure out the identity, and his hunch was vindicated when he came up from the lab long after he'd sent everyone else home. His barked out question had given him more than he could have hoped for, and they had a suspect in custody by the end of the day. He decided to leave the interrogation until the morning, both to give the perp something to think about and to let his own rage settle into a more manageable simmer. He was tying up forensic ends with Kasie before calling it a night, stepping out of the elevator just in time to catch Jack in the act. 

The elevator doors whipped her head around to his arrival, and she hastily double-timed her way to the stairs despite knowing full well he had seen her, his smirk broad and cocky. Sure enough, a third cup, identical to the two that had materialized throughout the day, sat on the corner of his desk, steam tantalizingly wafting up through the lid. Grinning, he curled his fingers around the offering and made his way to the second floor. 

He announced his arrival with a soft rap on her door before he entered, and if she didn't know the jig was up when she saw him downstairs, him lifting the cup in her direction said it all. As a means of deflection, she pretended to be more interested in her own coffee and took a drink.

Which she immediately almost spat out.

He revelled in her reaction, his smile broad and honest. Tilting the cup in his hand back and forth, he stretched forward to place it on her desk. "Could smell that sugar at 200 yards." In her haste to not get caught, she had put down her coffee on his desk by accident. He watched in amusement as she tried to hide the grimace that came when the hot black tar hit her tongue. While she struggled with the bitterness, he searched for the one missing piece. "How'd you get the coffee on my desk this morning?"

She offered a sheepish shrug. "I came in at 5, because _somehow_ I knew you'd be here early." She drew out the word and made it obvious. "Turned on the table lamp, made coffee, left it on your desk, came back up here and promptly fell asleep on the couch." His warm smile at her list drew out her softness. "It was a tough case. I thought the coffee might help," she said. "And I heard you had a quota you might not have been meeting."

Her assessment of his coffee intake added a laugh to his smile, even if it also told him how keenly aware she was of how he carried the weight of a case with him. 

"I could get used to it."

She tilted her head. "At the coffee or the idea of me bringing it to you?"

His eyes flicked away to the dart board to her left, marvelling at how quickly she could turn the tables. "Meant the coffee." He left the 'but' unspoken. If he thought about it, he'd be surprised at how her little moments of care were becoming things that filled spaces in him he hadn't realized were empty. Her professional abilities as a psychologist were invaluable, but it was her personal offerings as a friend that had come to mean so much more. In six months, she had brought over pizza when she knew a case prevented him from eating, shared a bottle of whiskey when she knew he wasn't sleeping, and now had supplied him with coffee when she knew he needed the excuse to slow down. How she had become _his_ port in the storm, despite their first meeting being very much the opposite, puzzled the hell out of him.

"Ah," she nodded, catching the unsaid, her expression soft yet sultry. 

The way she was able to find that thread in him and weave herself around it drew out a half chuckle and a small head shake.

She let the feeling settle gently between them before saying, "You'll sleep tonight?"

He appreciated that about her, too, her talent for jumping over the obvious -'You look tired'- and getting right to the detail. It was another example of the responsibility of care she had taken upon herself. While he let the feeling warm his chest, he tried to wrestle control over the conversation's tone. "You offerin' to tuck me in, Jack?"

He should've known she'd have a counter move. "Are you asking?"

_Jesus._ The way she asked the question made it clear that all he had to do was answer. Somehow, a visit to her office that was meant to be teasing and light turned into something that made him shift in his seat to relieve the sudden tightness. The way her lips twitched told him she recognized it, too, though she appeared to be having way more fun with it than he was.

Gruffly, he coughed away the question and in a last ditch attempt to pull the conversation in a way that didn't send blood rushing below his belt, took two long gulps of his coffee and said, "Not sure I've met my quota yet." It was another shift that didn't go unnoticed, and he realized he was getting used to her play, especially when it came with a low "Mmmm," that made him wonder what it would sound like in other settings. Jerking his head towards the door, he said, "Lemme buy you a coffee. Figure I'm on the hook for at least 3."

It took her all of 2 seconds to consider the offer before she stood, to put away her paperwork and slide into her heels. A last minute thought seemed to occur to her, because she snapped her fingers and strode to her coffee machine in the corner of the office. Reaching to a shelf beneath, she pulled out a bag of grounds and tossed it to him, hitting him square in the chest.

"Just in case I'm not there to bring it to you."

He frowned at the possibility, put aside the reason why it would bother him so much and offered a daring counter. "So you're _not_ gonna tuck me in?"

The innuendo pulled up a surprised eyebrow. Patting the coffee he still held against his chest, she said, "Better stock up on the sugar, Cowboy. You're not the only one with a quota."

He watched her walk out of the office and grinned. Tossing the bag in the air, he caught it with one hand and closed the door behind him with the other.

…..

-end


End file.
